I had an opportunity to spend some time over lunch with three of my four children. Only Cathy Ann was not present as she is the only one out side the metropolitan area these days. Additionally my wife, daughter-in-law Claudia and future son-in-law Brandon were along. I just a while ago got off the phone from Cathy Ann and it was good to chat with her if she could not be here in person.
I've thought about my own father from time to time today. Someone I really didn't know. Only meeting him as an adult on I believe 4 occasions. He is deceased now. Still, I think about him and the rest of my paternal side of the family that is principally gone save perhaps some cousins that I really don't know. I don't know any way to explain it other then this void that has plagued my life and I suppose always will.
I looked through a few poems to find one befitting of sharing on Father's Day and I chose the following:
To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade.
Before the story ended, he’d removed
the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.
I can’t remember the tale,
but hear his voice still, a well
of dark water, a prayer.
And I recall his hands,
two measures of tenderness
he laid against my face